Raising Laura
by LucasGreenX23
Summary: What if Project X-23 had been delayed several years? Beaten and abused to breed out all emotion, lead to believe that she was nothing more than a weapon to be used, three-year-old X-23 has never known the concept of kindness. Then the man known as Wolverine arrived with his X-Men, and suddenly, the little mutant is faced with her greatest challenge yet... Learning to be happy.
1. Timely Intervention

**Timely Intervention**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to X-Men Evolution. Please support the official release.**

 **A/N: A barely three-year-old Laura, adopted into the X-Mansion. Hi-Jinks, Angst, Drama, and Comfort to come. Also, even though the characters of Sarah Kinney, Kimura and Zander Rice are in this, X-23 retains her X-Men Evolution appearance. One, because I don't wanna come off as racy, (Someone will say it, that's modern society for ya.) And two… well, you'll see the other reason.**

 **XXX**

X-23 was born of pain.

Pain and tears, both her own, and those of her mother. At the tender age of three, this was all she knew.

'Sarah Kinney', that was her mother's name. Or at least that was her mother would tell her, amongst other things, when the red blinking light on the observance camera on the ceiling corner switched off. And it was during these three-minute intervals, between her assigned reading and her three hours of sensory-deprivation inside the white room. When the lights dimmed and the near-inaudible voices behind the mirror faded, signalling the bad people's arrival, were the moments that X-23 cherished the most.

These were the moments, between the pain and the unyielding loneliness, where X-23, also known as 'Little Bitch' by her handler, 'Weapon-23' by Dr. Rice, and 'Laura' by her mother, felt… anything.

If she had to choose, which her mother repeatedly insisted she could, she would opt for the latter. Not that the name held any special significance to her regarding their spelling or how they sounded as she struggled to spell them out. No, it was the way in which they were imprinted upon her that stayed with her throughout.

The name, 'Little Bitch', first reached her infant ears when she was forcibly dragged from her crib in the dead of night, a few weeks ago, on the night which her mother happily declared to be her 'Third-Birthday'. Or, as happy as she could be whispering her motherly praise into her ear whilst the bad people came to drag her away, and leave Laura all alone. She had been awoken from her cold white metal crib and pulled along at a pace that her tiny legs couldn't possibly keep up with, before being flung onto the hard-concrete ground before a tall, muscular woman. A sadistic grin plastered across her smug face, her sharp features conveyed not an ounce of sympathy for the cowering toddler, who wept whilst cradling her knee, freshly scraped upon impact with the rough floor. Her form was slim but muscular, her brown-haired woven tightly into dreadlocks, an unashamedly thuggish woman whose predilection for causing Laura harm, was only exacerbated by her diamond hard, impenetrable skin, and in terms of morals… she had none. As an example, or show of dominance depending on perspective, she ordered one of the soldiers to unload his gun in the direction of her own face. When the entire clip was spent, every single bullet having ricocheted off her head, she proceeded to hoist the man up by his throat… and shove her fist through his torso. The convulsing soldier's blood ran down her handler's fist as it exited the other side, splatters showering down upon Laura's startled form, staining her clothes and imprinting upon her the belief, that this will be her life going forward.

She was Kimura, her handler, her tormentor above all besides Dr. Rice, and the source of her nightmares when she could no longer keep her eyes open. Kimura cared for nobody but herself, and she wasn't above something as trivial as murder to see her ends met. Sometimes it was a backhand because Laura couldn't keep up. Other times it would vary depending on Kimura's mood, perhaps she would be thrown across the room, or battered to within an inch of her healing factors damage-threshold, something that the bad people and Dr. Rice loved to test, over and over, and Kimura was all too pleased to oblige. Laura's age, at least as far as the bad people were concerned, was a non-factor. The girl was a weapon, not a person, born and bred without emotion to be the ultimate killing machine. And a machine that could not function under pressure, was of no use to anyone, except to be dismantled. Taken apart one piece at a time and repurposed to improve upon their next 'project'.

To Laura, 'Little Bitch' meant she had failed, and failure was met with strict… 'correction'. The same facility that cloned Laura, also granted Kimura her unbreakable skin. For all intents and purposes, and sweeping aside all pretence of humanity, Kimura had been created to harm a little girl.

Laura's infant development was rushed beyond anything remotely humane. Within her little life, she'd been beaten and bled to crawl, stand, run, defecate in the corner, and recently they'd been forcing her to read and speak. Although 'Run' wasn't quite the word the bad people would use to describe her movement, more like 'Waddling', or some other synonym.

And if that weren't unfortunate enough, words, speech, conjugation as a whole, still eluded her. Bad news for the bad people, their pet project was once again delayed. Good news for Kimura, her victim was due for another beating. And as for Dr. Rice, his was an aura of frustration that thinly masked his pleasure at seeing her suffer.

And through it all, her mother looked on from afar. There were times when Laura would reach out, especially during Kimura's more violent… 'corrections', in a desperate bid for her dear mother, to again hear her sweet nothings. For they, were the one semblance of kindness she had ever known. She didn't want to hurt anymore, she didn't want to sleep on the cold floor in her cold room. Dr. Rice had taken her blanket, he said _'she doesn't deserve comfort…'._ She didn't want to cry anymore, because when she cried, the bad people came.

Now 'want', or rather the idea of 'wanting', was a relatively new term in Laura's mental vocabulary. The notion of 'want', of desiring something that she would like, held only negative connotations, at least in her experience. For the first two years of her life, any cries for attention because she was either hungry, scared, lonely, or she needed to be changed, were ignored. And in time, Laura had learned that no one would come if she cried. Were she capable of it, Laura would have recognised this treatment as being 'unfair', 'wrong', and if she were older, 'illegal'. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Laura knew nothing of right and wrong; she existed in a world of routines, commands, pain, and a cold sensation throughout her very being that naught but her mother's brief touch would quell.

That being said, it was due to one such desperate grasp for her mother during a particularly violent beating, not two days after her third birthday, where the unexpected, to Laura at least, occurred.

In her bid to escape Kimura's wrath, desperately crawling towards her mother, who stood off to the side with the bad people in their white coats… two pairs of long, sharp, protrusions, burst forth from her tiny caramel hands. This revelation did not, in fact, garner a response from either the bad people or Kimura, beyond a rapid tapping of gloved fingers on tablet devices. Through the pain and her own screaming, as Laura tried desperately, and failed, to will the spikes back into her hands, her glaze remained fixed on her mother. Sarah Kinney did not immediately rush over to comfort her child, nor did she anger and strike her like so many before. Instead she backed away, shaking her head before she fled the room in tears, leaving Laura to wonder, as the bad people approached for what would ultimately amount to another tortuous round of tests… what had she done wrong?

Dr. Rice, came into her room that day in place of her mother, which upset Laura greatly. However, she dare not show this. Experience had taught her that crying, making noise, and/or any form of movement whilst in his presence would end with her strapped to his metal table, and from then on it was free rein for Rice to do whatever he pleased. Sometimes, he came at her with a scalpel, slowly cutting whichever body part caught his fancy, relishing in her screams, and waiting for the cut to heal just so he could happily reopen it again. Other times he used the bad air; a mask strapped to her face forced a foul-smelling gas into her lungs, that made her insides burn and her eyes sting.

This time however, his usual depraved grin or disapproving scowl, had been replaced by a blank, neutral expression. He peered down at her, as she cowered in the corner, Laura's fists bunched up with handfuls of her pink clothing. After an uncomfortable silence, Rice informed her of what she had already concluded on her own.

Mother ran away… and she wasn't coming back! Although, Dr. Rice referred to her as Dr. Kinney.

He also informed her that she would receive a special session in the laboratory soon. He did this, mind, whilst fondling a shiny silvery-metal ball in his hand. What it was for, or what it was made of, she did not know. Nor she attempt to give voice to these concerns, for this was the norm for Laura. This was the everyday, the mundane, another in a long line of painful moments that made up her life.

So, she lay motionless, her tiny form taking slight comfort as it rested against the cold white floor. Remaining still as Dr. Rice examined her hands, or rather, the parts where her 'spikes' came out. Although what her 'spikes' had to do with a ball of metal, she did not know.

Five days passed, during which time Laura's mechanical routine continued as per usual. Efforts to make her speak yielded nothing more than squeaks and hums, abnormal of an individual her age, regardless of current circumstances. The beating from Kimura worsened tremendously, Dr. Rice hammered in the message that they needed to ready Laura's body for what was coming. Though what that something was, she wasn't sure. Only that the briefest mention of it gave the two of them grins that scared Laura on a primal level. Emotion had been 'for the most part' bred out of her from birth, yet fear and anger are not so easily quelled. As a change of pace however, many times one of the white coats would take Dr. Rice aside. Whilst Laura's seemingly never-ending running lessons were going nowhere fast, in-between moments of awkwardly waddling back and forth from points (A) to (B), under threat of electrocution via cattle-prod, she could just make out snippets of their conversations. Phrases such as, 'Kinney's gone dark', 'Subject isn't ready' and 'Too young to survive' were often repeated, and almost immediately brushed off.

At night, little Laura dreamt of her mother. Of resting her head on her mother's knee, as mother stroked her head. Laura wasn't sure why she wanted this, as her mother, nor anyone really, had offered her such warm treatment. But for whatever reason, these thoughts made her feel warm inside. It was a strange feeling. It didn't make her angry, nor did it hurt… the exact opposite, yet she had no such word to describe it. And as always, the dark spectre of another day loomed over head. Another bout against her handler, another meal of grey paste and water, another blast from the fire-hose if she made a mess… life carried on as, in her world, normal.

That is until one week and five days later… That was when everything changed.

 **XXX**

Laura awoke to the sounds of alarms blaring. The camera in the above corner of her room was motionless, and as Laura crawled to the other corner, as she would from time to time, the camera remained trained on where she'd once slept. Laura was a product of routine, and any deviation from the routine, was a tell-tale sign that something bad would happen to her. Last time this happened, Kimura became her handler. Now, she was scared to find out.

As taught by her mother, in the eventuality that this very alarm should sound, was to move to the furthest corner and huddle into a ball. Outside her room was an equally quiet hallway, or at least that was usually the case, today however, the sounds of shouting could be heard echoing through that halls, followed in quick succession by the rhythmic stomp of several dozen combat-boots on linoleum. The bad people had yet to realise Laura's heightened senses, including but not limited to, her increased hearing, and for that she was grateful. Laying her head gently against the tiled floor, facing away from the door, Laura listened intently to the muffled noises coming from outside and the rooms beyond. Shouts spanning the complete range of her emotional understanding, ranging from angry, to frustrated, to deathly afraid could be heard. The last one was particularly strange, as she'd only ever heard shouts like that from her mother and herself. As far as she knew, the bad people never knew fear, so to hear it for the first time in her life, from those who'd brought her harm, was a terrifying idea… and yet, some small, overlooked part of her revelled in it. Knowing that those who delighted in her pain now knew how it felt, was enough to make her heart beat faster, and the warm feeling in her chest to return.

Their cries for mercy went unanswered though, as one by one each went silent, until only the high-pitched wail of the alarm system remained.

Laura's sterile white room was in darkness from the time her mother called 'Sundown', whatever the sun was, to 'Sunrise', in which the bright white lights would illuminate the room, magnified by the all-white titled surfaces. As the room remained bathed in darkness, the blinking red light of the camera acting as her only point of reference. Although in the previous year in which she'd learned to crawl and subsequently walk, she had navigated the room and memorized every square inch of it by heart.

Laura lay still, anticipating the worst at any moment. She was sure something would happen, she just didn't know what.

Tiny hands nervously pawed at her clothing, as she tucked her head into her knees. She knew that anytime now, Kimura, or Dr. Rice, or more people in white clothes would rush in and drag her away for more pain. It would be like every other day for her… but she didn't want more pain. It was all she'd ever known, what else was there other than pain? The warm feeling? She… wanted… really, really wanted the warm feeling. Her mother told her that she was allowed to 'Want', but what was 'want'? Laura didn't know… it confused her. So, she did what she would always do when her world of pain and confusion ravaged her young mind… she started to cry.

And when she did, Kimura would rush in and attack… because that was how it was supposed to be.

For how was it possible for a child, bred to be nothing more than a weapon, to comprehend choice? Rights, happiness, basic freedom, the very mention of such concepts around 'Weapon X-23', was strictly forbidden. The bad people didn't look upon her as a person, despite that which her mother told her in hushed words, over and over again, Laura could not see herself as a 'Person'.

Persons… or rather, 'People', gave her pain. They stared down at her the same as they would a chair, or a table, or the floor. Laura was a 'Thing'.

And that was okay. Because, 'Things', didn't hurt her. The floor didn't hurt her, a 'Person' threw her. Her room was always there, four walls, a ceiling, the floor. The room would never leave her, not like her mother.

Kind, not shouting, not hurting, and especially not leaving, 'Things'.

Yes, she liked being a 'Thing'. 'People' were bad. But 'Things'? Those were safe.

But the people didn't hurt the other 'Things', not the chairs, or the tables, or the floors… If they were 'Things' and she was a 'Thing', like the bad people said. Then why did they hurt her and not the other 'Things'?

It was all too much for her. She did not have the cognitive abilities to understand so much, so fast. It confused her. It made her head hurt, and thus, she cried.

And she would have continued to cry, if the door to her forever loyal room wasn't suddenly and violently ripped off its hinges. Behind her, a sudden sharp metallic grind of metal on metal removed the door from its station, bathing the room in the bright red, lighting from the hall. Laura curled as tightly as she could without hurting herself, if Kimura or Dr. Rice caught her crying, they'd force the pipe in her throat and burn her insides with the gas again.

However, a violent reprimand never came. She could hear the breathing of two people behind her, but she dare not move. And neither did they. The sound and smell of blades exiting a body made her whimper as the first of the two entered the room… but it was the other person who screamed, a female, followed by a barely restrained snarl and the sound of a body colliding hard against the wall.

"This… this can't be real! You really did it, you took my DNA and you…"

A gravely male voice caught her ears, he sounded upset.

"You… WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU PEOPLE DONE?!"

The male again shouted and slammed the other, whom she assumed was the female, into the wall once more. The female screamed and struggled against the male's grip, but from the sounds of it, her efforts were futile.

"Oh God! Wait, Weapon-X please. Kinney swore you'd let me live if I helped you!"

Laura recognised her mother's name immediately, she had committed it to memory. The females voice sounded familiar as well, Dr… something. She didn't hit her, like the others, unless they were watching her, and even then, it wasn't as hard, even if it did still hurt.

"Kinney?! Listen, Risman! When I find Kinney, she's gonna answer for this. Her, and anyone else I find out was a part of this!" The male tossed the female, who Laura now recognised as Dr. Risman, in the direction of the doorway. "Don't believe me, ask any one of the red stains that used to be your work force!"

The man sounded very angry. So why wasn't he attacking her? Every time she'd ever seen a 'Person' get angry, they'd always hurt her. Why was this time different?

Unless… they were hurting Dr. Risman first, like Kimura with the guard last week. Of course, it was the only answer that made sense.

"Please, you have to understand! This wasn't… I didn't think… nothing like this!" Dr. Risman was breathing heavily, her laboured voice undermining whatever point she was attempting to convey.

"No one who'd willingly work here was thinking! You wanna live? Then make yourself useful and get me a list!"

Dr. Risman's heels clicked against the floor and she staggered upright on trembling legs.

"A… list?"

The male snarled again, "What, am I speaking French? Yes, a list! A list of names! Project founders, Scientists, Benefactors, Subsidiaries, Drivers, Janitors… Everyone! If someone knew so much as a hint of what's been going on here, I wanna know about it! Now Go!"

"Wolverine, they've already triggered the 'Incursion-Protocol'. We've got maybe twenty minutes before this place is blown sky-high…"

"Well you'd better work fast, Doc! Clocks tickin'."

Apparently, Dr. Risman didn't have to be told twice as the sound of her heels echoed in the opposite direction down the hall.

Which left Laura alone with, him.

His presence made her nervous. Even from her position a few feet away, with her back turned, she could still make out the scent of smoke on his clothing, and some sort of acidic aroma on his breath.

A leather boot sole gently hitting the floor signalled his approach. Followed by another, and another. Laura's breath caught in her throat as she let a whimper slip.

The male stopped.

Panicked and knowing what was to come, Laura scrunched her eyes shut, briefly halting the torrential flood of tears that soon resumed spilling down her cheeks.

The sound of stretching leather and protesting laces pulled hard against boot straps, signalled that the male had knelt behind her.

He smelt new, and his voice was unfamiliar to her. He was an unknown element, and that meant he would hurt her. Just like Kimura.

"Darlin'?"

Laura inadvertently flinched at his voice. Trembling as she tried in vain to pretend she was asleep, but to no avail as she felt a hand press down softly on her side and gently shake her.

Panicking, Laura squealed and pulled her legs up to her chest, burying her face in her knees.

The man seemed startled as he removed his hand with haste, although he made no attempt to back away from the frightened infant.

"I… It's alright darlin', I ain't gonna hurt ya."

Though speech alluded her, Laura was bright for her age, enough to recognise familiar words and phrases. 'Hurt', to her, only ever resulted in pain on her end, yet the new male made no effort to scold or strike her, instead he placed a large hand on her small frame and gently rolled her onto her other side.

Against her better instincts, Laura hazarded a glance at the tall individual, knowing full-well the tortuous consequences that she would endure, and as Kimura beat into her at every opportunity, "A weapon that doesn't work is useless, and around here, useless things get recycled!" Kimura had grinned ear to ear at that last part.

Laura didn't know what 'recycled' meant, but seeing how the word affected Kimura so, she didn't want to find out. She was a good weapon, she wouldn't be scared, or sad, or desperate for her mother's return. Because she was a weapon, and therefore, she did not feel.

At the behest of a hand under her chin, Laura's gaze gradually drifted up, past worn brown leather boots and blood-spattered denim jeans. Over a tattered white shirt and equally bloody brown jacket that smelled as though it'd endured its fair share of violent conflicts; before coming to rest within the disheartened stare of the male in question.

Little Laura bore no outward scars or wounds, everything from broken limbs to full body burns healed thanks to her 'design' as mother had said. And yet, the wordless, visual exchange between the two spoke volumes. They'd both witnessed and experienced pain beyond the boundaries of most human comprehension.

And Laura could tell by his eyes alone, that he too was a weapon, just like her. This thought brought momentary comfort to the small child, until she remembered that such thoughts were forbidden and would earn her a night in the punishment room, as such, her hopes dashed and rejected, Laura returned her head to her knees.

The male exhaled a sad sigh, running a hand across her head and along her soft hair, an act which both calmed and perplexed the poor girl. He'd entered her room angry, for whatever reason, and yet he hadn't struck her. He hadn't beat her, burnt her, scream at her, nothing?! In what passed for Laura's world, such an occurrence was unheard of.

"Bastards… They'll suffer for this!" The male's tone did nothing to ease Laura's tension. "Listen darlin', can ya understand me?" Laura understood enough, though she lacked the verbal ability to respond. Peeking out, she met his eyes once more, which must have been enough for him.

The male smirked and reached inside his jacket, pulling out a folded piece of note paper. "Darlin' your momma sent me this letter a few days ago, told me all about'cha. Didn't believe it… Didn't wanna believe it, least not till a friend stuck his bald head in and found ya here."

He mentioned 'momma', a word Laura heard from her own mother a few times, usually in reference to herself, and from Kimura in more of a hostile sense, to which she'd long since grown accustom. This made the young girl perk up, uncovering her eyes as she waited on baited breath, hopeful that the subject of her mother would take precedence.

"Ya miss your momma?" The man ruffled Laura's hair, it felt… she had no word to describe it. 'Not-Pain' perhaps, the exact opposite in fact, and so strangely familiar. "I know how it feels, kiddo. Someone you love just up and leaves ya without a word, it leaves a scar," The man took Laura's tiny hand, and for a moment, she feared he might try to make her spikes appear, but fortunately he took no such action. Instead he took her hand in his palm and stroked the top with his thumb. "Difference between you and me is, I can take the pain."

Unexpectedly, the man scooped her up with his other hand and moved her, so she was kneeling as he was.

"But you… you shouldn't have to."

Momentarily startled by her involuntary movement, Laura withdrew her hand holding them in front of her less she be struck. Which thankfully did not come.

"Darlin'…" The man had to pause for a moment, contemplating what it was he could, or rather 'should' say. "I can only imagine what kinda hell ya've been through here. Someone your age especially, it ain't right."

The man held his hand out to her.

"But you don't have'ta be afraid of me… cause you n' me, we're family."

'Family', Laura didn't recognise that word. Though she liked the way he said it, it made her feel warm. Timidly, she reached forward and brushed the man's hand, before pulling back. He didn't grab her, drag her, or hit her, he just waited. Cautiously, she repeated this action, this time taking hold of two of his fingers.

"There, see? Nothing to be afraid of."

His skin was rough and more than a little dirty. This in of itself did not bother Laura, but rather the familiar sensation that came with it. It was as though she were recalling some primal instinct, it made her… Warm.

Casually, the man removed his jacket, taking care not to startle the young girl. Laura became wary as she watched the brown garment surround her, however, the moment her skin encountered the warm furry inner lining, all misgivings vanished. Closing her eyes, she marvelled at the soft feeling wrapping itself around her. The ready heated clothing provided welcome relief from the cold hard floor. So much so that Laura became only semi-aware of her present condition; gently her tiny self was hoisted up and cradled in one of the man's strong arms.

"Fifteen minutes, Wolverine!"

Dr. Risman's abrupt return startle young Laura from what had been a moment of blissful ease. Something the man holding her was all too quick to pick up on.

"That was awfully fast, doc! You'd better not be trying to pull one over on me."

The doctor held her hands up in defence, for what little good it might do. In her left palm, a purple flash drive hung swung back and forth from a yellow lanyard.

"I'm not, I swear! Here, this master file contains everything about this project. About 'The Facility', all our employees, their schedules, their work, addresses and numbers… Everything."

The man strode over, Laura in hand, and swiped the drive from the doctor's hand. The man looked the timid doctor over, if there was any hint of deception on her, he couldn't find it. Begrudgingly, the man known as Wolverine gestured the doctor toward the exit.

"You know the way out, I suggest you start running."

Dr. Risman's nodded profusely as she shot Laura a look of abject sorrow. In the little girl's mind, the doctor did hurt her… Just not as badly as the others.

"I am sorry, X-23, I truly am. I didn't think…"

"That's right, you didn't think, nobody here was thinking! Remember this, Risman. I know a guy who can find anyone on the planet… By thinking! I find out you've double crossed this tyke, you'll be first on my hit-list!"

Nothing else needed to be said. The doctors' motives for her past actions, and those up to this moment, we're a mystery in of themselves. But her clear and present fear was all too real. Evidently the doctor didn't need to be told twice as far as escape was concerned either, considering she nearly tripped over her own heels as she made a mad dash down the hall. The click-clack of her footwear soon became non-existent as a continuous alarm blared out across every room and vacant hallway in the complex.

The ear-piercingly loud noise did little to ease Laura's discomfort. As a weapon she was unfamiliar with being held in this manner, tucked comfortably in this man's arm, her head resting on his shoulder. Often, she would find herself being dragged painfully by her little wrist as she struggled to keep pace with one of the doctors, or by her hair if Kimura was feeling particularly cruel that day. Whatever the case maybe, here and now, wrapped safely in the stranger's warm tattered jacket, Laura's mind drifted as her eyes grew heavy. Sleep often eluded her, as was the case when one slept on a cold tile floor in clothing made of the cheapest thinnest material available. She didn't understand this warm sensation that surrounded her, but whatever the reason, it made her surprisingly sleepy.

 **XXX**

Laura found herself teetering upon the periphery of her subconscious. The promise of a warm sleep felt so close, and yet, the little mutant found herself being shaken as a genial breeze blew against her face. All around her the red emergency lighting bathed a long empty hallway in its haunting glow; the alarm continued to screech and echo throughout the complex, accompanied by the sickening metallic stench of spiller blood. From her place in the Wolverine's arm, she could make out his strong grizzled face, eyes darting this way and that as if he were looking for something. It was clear from the jostling that he was running with her, but to where, she did not know.

Peering out from the jacket Laura found herself almost swaddled in, her eyes beheld the litter of fallen doctors, previously armed guards, and other unknowns lying motionless about the floor. As each hallway gave way to yet another hallway or vacant work space, the full extent of the hostilities became truly apparent. Bodies filled the rooms, sometimes in great heaps. As he ran, she sighted individuals hanging lifeless through shattered glass tables and viewing windows. One apparent males limp legs dangled from an impact hole in the ceiling, though how he'd ended up there, Laura wasn't sure. Some had been sliced repeatedly, mostly the ones in guard armor, whilst others appeared to have been slain executioner style with a stab to the head.

Soon the stench became near overpowering, forcing Laura to bury her head in the Wolverine's shoulder, better his smoky scent than the lingering odour of blood and gore.

A part of her wondered who might have done this. This 'Wolverine' perhaps, she did wonder, but such thoughts were swiftly abandoned. The Wolverine had been nothing but… Warm, to her since his arrival.

Her Handler, Kimura, came to mind. Indeed, she would've been greatly amused by this spectacle, spreading her haunting grin as she admired her own handy work, as she often did. But then again, when she killed guards, it made Dr. Rice angry. And when Dr. Rice gets angry, that's the only time when Kimura would backdown.

Or maybe it was Dr. Rice. He certainly enjoyed hurting Laura, maybe he wanted to hurt something else? An actual person perhaps? Instead of his weapon, as he called her. It was a possibility, though from personal experience, Laura was sure that Dr. Rice was more inclined to order someone else to incite this level of wanton destruction. The only time his aggression became hands on, was when the two of them were alone. And he was always careful not to leave a mess.

Laura's lucid thoughts drifted to the wayside as a new unfamiliar scent met her sensitive nose. It smelt like… Cold. Like the ice baths the doctors made her take, the ones that lasted a long time until she couldn't control her shivering, where her lips turned blue and her tiny toes went numb.

As the cold scent grew, so too did the lingering fragrances that drifted along with it. The smell of plants, like those small potted trees the doctors were so fond of using as office décor. The stink of worn tyres and dripping diesel, like the loading bay she'd been dragged through by a doctor after he took a ring turn. And the oddly calming sensation of… She wasn't quite sure. It felt like a cool rush of air on her face, like from a vent or office fan, only bigger. And Laura wondered, was this what her mother had called, a breeze?

It felt so strange, this invisible rush of air, running gently across her little face and through her stringy hair. Carrying with it, smells and tastes from who knows where. Her mother had told her she was special, she said that allot, that her senses allowed her to experience things that most others never would. It was almost too much to take in at once. That is, until another all-too familiar scent caught her attention.

The Wolverine's mad dash brought them through a noticeably large hallway and out a sizeable set of double doors, what lay beyond… was indescribable.

From Laura's perspective, it was as though the many plastered and tiled ceilings she'd come to know throughout her short life had vanished, leaving in their place this big blue emptiness. Where once she'd held a hand out in thought that she might one day touch the top of her room, now she was left with this sense that, no matter how hard she met try, and how high she might reach, the big blue emptiness above her would be forever out of her tiny hands.

Walls surrounded the pair in what appeared to be a sectioned off area, with two heavy metal doors already open revealing a long vacant dirt road as well as several tall green plants jutting up from the ground. 'Trees' they were called, if Laura remembered correctly. The ground beyond was a mix of green and white, the white stuff covering most everything outside, whatever it was it smelled wet.

Behind them, their exit was revealed to be a small entryway compared to the massive expanse of grey and glass that made up 'The Facility', as her mother had called it with great distaste. Around them were all manner of stationary vehicles and metal containers of all sizes, like the loading bay as Laura recalled, only much larger. Two large mounted guns stood silent atop metal platforms on both walls on either side, their users either deceased or having long since fled. And as Laura had expected, the deceased occupied this big open place just like the Facility. How strange that it seemed the guards here had put up more of a fight, evidenced by bullet riddled boxes and holes in concrete walls.

Wolverine tapped his free hand to his ear, and started speaking, but to whom, Laura wasn't sure.

"Hank, Ororo, the Professor was right. That Kinney woman's letter was legit! It's all real, every word of it."

The Wolverine sounded angry, if his snarling wasn't enough of a giveaway.

"Yeah, that's right. I found her… She's real…"

Wolverine looked at Laura, peering into her wide green eyes as he pulled at the jacket protecting her from the cold. Peaking her head out from the fur lined collar, he observed as Laura took in her strange new surroundings, without a hint of trepidation.

"And she's definitely mine."

Despite this unexpected turn of events, Laura's life experiences had taught her that fortune never shone in her favor, she had little doubt that at any moment something would harm her. Or she'd be dragged back inside. Back to Dr. Rice and his terrible table. Or Kimura and her army of doctors, always poking and prodding at her with needles, scales and all manner of surgical equipment.

Such was her lot in life, as a 'thing' to be used and abused.

"Hank, I'm gonna need extract, ASAP! This place is primed and ready to blow, we've got minutes!"

The Wolverine stared up at the big blue, looking for something, although for what, Laura wasn't sure. That was when a new yet familiar scent caught the attention of the pair. It was the unmistakable pungent stench of vintage merlot, and post work-out flop sweat. The tell-tale aroma that signified the arrival of one person…

Standing at the entrance to the compound, blocking the one exit to whatever lay beyond… Was Kimura.

"Hi Wolverine." Kimura flashed her signature snarky grin and waved mockingly at the pair as she advanced.

Laura tried with all her might to resist, but despite her pleading with her own body, it began to quiver with fright. It knew what was to come next, as did she. The beatings, the prodding, the table, all of it. Laura slammed her eyes shut as if maybe doing so the world around her would cease to be. Yet her other senses betray her to the harsh reality that was gradually moving closer and closer.

"So nice of you to recover my plaything. But if you don't mind, or even if you do, I'll be taking 'IT' off your hands now!" Kimura cracked her knuckles as she drew closer, an all too familiar sound that mean only one thing, she was ready to attack.

The Wolverine snarled and placed Laura on the ground against a wooden crate. Glancing down at her frightened form, an unspoken rage ignited an inferno within his chest. Someone did this to a child, now that someone was standing before him and gleefully bragging about it. That, he assured himself, would be her last mistake on this earth.

"Lady, I don't know who or what the hell you're supposed to be. But this ain't the time for a showdown! This whole place is gonna blow sky high, and you along with it!"

The Wolverine's warning, however, went unheeded.

"I know, and while your busy growing your eyes back in your sockets, I'll be free to drag that Little Bitch's burnt corpse back to my boss for twice my annual pay."

There would be no talking this one down, and in a way, Wolverine was glad of this. If the Professor asked, he could say he used diplomacy… It just didn't pan out.

"Stay here, darlin'. This won't take long!"

The Wolverines words meant little to her three-year-old mind, but the way he said them affected her much more deeply than she understood. He sounded so confident, so self-assured and in control. And yet, as they exchanged one final look before turning to face their enemy, Laura could sense that there was something more. Something beyond the rage, and the words, and the confidence. Something that told Laura, from one look alone, that she would be alright.

Wolverine turned away from the scared toddler to the cackling harpy that stood before him.

"Aww, well isn't that precious! The big bad Wolverine's a daddy. Maybe we should trade pictures sometime? I keep all mine in a scrapbook at home, oh you have to see them Wolvie, they're to die for."

Wolverines nerves flexed, as out from between his knuckles burst three sharp metal claws from both fists.

"Let's see, there was the time we tested her healing factor by marinating her arm with battery acid. Took It hours to grow it all back, but I insisted we try with the other arm."

Worn leather and rubber met blood stained gravel as the Wolverine approached his prey.

"Or how about that time in the punishment room? You know, they actually asked me to tear out It's hair... with my bare hands."

Laura backed away behind the crate, peeking out from behind as the two predators prepared to clash.

"And there's my personal favorite; the day It's mommy ran away, little bitch started crying… So, I snapped It's leg."

All pretense of a standoff was out the preverbal window, a line had been crossed, there had never been an option for mercy and all this did was confirm so. A rush of cold air blew Laura's brown hair in her eyes, brushing it aside as what could only be described as, a roar as primal as the wild, bellowed out into the big empty blue. Hastily she caught sight of the Wolverine changing at breakneck speed, fist and claws pulled back and ready to strike.

Opposing the beast, Kimura's smirk only grew as she sprinted straight into the waiting claws of her adversary.

The Wolverine leaped into the air bringing his claws down straight across Kimura's grinning face.

And nothing happened.

Caught off guard, The Wolverine staggered back to strike again, only to be met by the rush of Kimura's deadly right hook against his jaw. The Wolverine stumbled, to guard his fall a hand palmed the ground, this only left him exposed as Kimura slammed her boot into the Wolverine's stomach.

The impact carried enough force to lift the Wolverine off the ground knocking him a few feet away.

Kimura laughed and cracked her knuckles.

"What? That's it? You're the famous Weapon-X Mutant they've been trying to clone?!"

Wolverine rose to his feet, cracking his neck as he absentmindedly wiped a smear of blood from the corner of his mouth. Once again, he unsheathed his claws, though this only provoked Kimura to shake her head.

"You truly are pathetic, ya know that? The doctor that cloned my plaything over there also gave me my unbreakable skin. Don't you get it? Those glorified gardening sheers are useless."

"Listen lady, how about ya cut the chit-chat, get your head outta your ass, and fight!"

Laura didn't understand much of the Wolverine's words, though their effect on Kimura was all too clear. Her sadistic grin was gone, Laura had never seen anyone upset Kimura on purpose, maybe this was the first time?

Kimura screamed in blind fury and broke into a sprint, she was furious and ready to kill, now it was The Wolverine's turn to smirk. Thinking fast, the Wolverine slashed his claws, not at Kimura, but at the ground to his left, hurling dirt, dust, and gravel into Kimura's eyes.

Blinded, Kimura ran straight into Wolverines right fist, followed immediately by his left fist across her face. Tripping backward, Kimura grabbed Wolverine's arm and used the momentum to toss him behind her.

The same alarm from inside the complex suddenly sounded out from every speaker system in the surrounding area. Laura wasn't sure what it meant, but given that it made Kimura smile again, it couldn't mean anything good.

"Well now, the automated self-destruct mode? Disappointing Wolvie, who'd of thought you'd go for the easy option. I knew Risman would turn traitor, but this? I'm almost impressed… Almost a shame he'll ask me to kill her for this."

The Wolverine was back up and ready to move, clearly the alarm was of more concern than Laura understood, as The Wolverine appeared to be weighing his options. His indecisiveness at this unexpected encounter made clear by his unfocused outlook. One side seemed compelled to fight, possibly to the death, whilst the other lingered on the tiny child cowering behind a flimsy wooden crate.

"I mean everyone hates you here, Wolvie. But Dr. Rice really, really hates you!"

"Never heard of him! I'm guessing he's the one who made you to kill me."

The Wolverine dashed behind a large armored vehicle, with some sort of gun jutting out the top.

"Kill you?! Is that what you think this is? Wolverine, I was made to turn that thing you dragged out here, into you! A better you! Killing you is just a happy bonus."

Kimura stalked around the side of the vehicle in pursuit; what happened next, Laura wasn't entirely sure, but from what she could piece together. The vehicle exploded sending fire and burning hunks of metal in all directions. Kimura flew and crashed hard into the ground, her figure literally smoldering as she forced herself to her knees. Laura could make out a small pumping sound over the noise of the wreckage, suddenly a small projectile shot through the black smoke in an arcing motion, Kimura had no time to react as the round metal piece exploded, launching her straight into the building's concrete side.

The Wolverine emerged from the smoke, his sweatshirt in burning pieces, and a grenade launcher in hand.

Kimura had made a noticeable crack in the wall upon impact, as she forced herself up, she noticed with a smirk that she'd landed within mere feet of her plaything. Laura noticed this as well and scampered backward, but as she was still young, she failed to remember the crate and backed straight into it.

Panicking as Kimura made to pounce, Laura thought for the briefest of moments, if right then and there, she would die. And in a strange sort of way, she was okay with that, warm almost.

As thoughts of her mother, Dr. Risman, and The Wolverine entered her mind, Laura's concentration was broken by the sudden unexpected stench of burning sulfur. A blue flash blasted her vision, making her eyes water. Kimura jerked back in shock and surprise, much like Laura herself as she stared up at the new figure perched on top of the crate.

An amused chuckle from The Wolverine, told Laura this was all planned. And suddenly her thoughts of death felt very sad indeed.

A bizarre blue creature the likes of which Laura had never seen looked down at her with bright curious eyes. A mop of blue messy hair adorned its head, and a pointed tail whipped casually back and forth behind its person.

"Guten Tag! Nightcrawler, pick up for two, ladies first."

"No!"

Kimura screamed as she realized what was about to happen, but her conclusion arrived too late. The creature known as Nightcrawler scooped Laura up from under her arms and… 'Poof', they were gone.

 **XXX**

Held tight in the Nightcrawler's arms, Laura body experienced a sudden rush of intense heat. Like stepping in front of an open fire after a prolonged period in the cold. Though Laura didn't dare open her eyes, she could feel the raging inferno rushing past, even if in real time it was only half a second. The feeling of normal air and the roar of machinery brought Laura to her sense, despite the haze of blue smoke that caused Laura to cough and sputter, and her eyes still stinging from the flash before.

"Kurt, I warned you about covering the child's eyes before teleporting, look at that, you've blinded the poor thing."

As Laura's eyes readjusted to the light, what appeared to be a disjointed series of blue blobs miraculously took the form of a large hairy blue beast, sitting in a chair at a steering wheel no less.

"Oh geez, you think Wolverine's gonna be mad?"

Laura looked up at Nightcrawler as he erratically examined her jacket wrapped form, his behaviour had a strange effect on the young girl, it made her belly warm, the opposite of sad in fact… But what could it mean?

"I wouldn't worry about that right now, Kurt. Seems Logan's got his hands full down there."

The room Laura found herself in was, strange. The Beast sat up front meshing buttons on a console whilst clutching the wheel, the ceiling was much lower, several chairs in close proximity stretched back to a metal door, and many windows revealed the big blue emptiness outside. Outside of the basic layout, the whole place emitted an uncomfortable whirring noise, like the Facilities generators she'd recall hearing in passing.

Kurt carried Laura over to the window, holding her up so she could see outside. What Laura saw beyond terrified her.

The Wolverine and Kimura were indeed still exchanging blows, only now their forms were tiny. The Facility could be seen in full, a large ugly grey building surrounded by a square walled off compound. Abandoned vehicles dotted the area, and from her position, the black smoke from the burning fire grew large filling the air.

This was not what frightened Laura so, but rather the height itself. Laura was up really high, and in her child state of mind, forgot the logic of windows and was immediately afraid she would be dropped. Squealing, Laura latched her arms around Nightcrawler's neck, she was afraid and in the moment, could think of nothing better to do. She knew this was wrong, a sign of weakness, and she would be punished for it, but at that moment, she didn't care. Laura just didn't want to fall.

"There, there, Meine Liebste. Here look, we can watch on the monitors."

Nightcrawler rubbed Laura's back as his tail unlatched some sort of viewing screen from above the seats, flickering to life, the picture revealed a close up of the fighting down below.

 **XXX**

Kimura was pissed. That much would have been obvious to any passing observer, although Kimura was the sort to make her temper shown, especially when situations came up that caught her off guard. She had expected Wolverine when she'd been alerted to the base's imminent detonation, it was a scenario she'd rehearsed with Dr. Rice on numerous occasions. Everything had been going as expected, even down to the many replaceable cannon fodder soldiers they'd been sent to tire Wolverine out.

What they hadn't planned for, was the X-Men.

Weapon-X was a loner by his very nature, to call for aid, over Dr. Rice's pathetic little experiment was truly a pitiful move on his part. Which made her all the angrier that it worked.

If Weapon-X got away with X-23, Dr. Rice would have her head.

The grenade launcher lay shattered on the ground, up until now Wolverine had found new ways to knock Kimura through a loop. Her skin might be unbreakable, but the shock of being caught in an explosion could still knock the wind out of her, enough that Wolverine could get a few cheap shots in, no matter how ineffective.

Both were exhausted, though Wolverine bore considerably more wounds by comparison. Their quick moves and outflanking had devolved into a bloody bare-knuckles brawl. Wolverines legendary healing factor lived up to its reputation, Kimura was beginning to feel the fatigue of prolonged battle, but Wolverine continued to fight in spite of every blow received. Torn flesh and broken bones knotted back together in a sickening display. This, however, was far from Kimura's top priority at the present time.

"You think you and your mutant friends can protect Rice's pet project? In that precious mansion? Oh yeah, Rice knows all about your little mutants only club. One word from Rice and a thousand mercenaries will burn that place to the ground!"

"Wouldn't be the first time… And we've saved mutants in need from scum like you, too many times to count."

Kimura swung her fist at Wolverine's head, but was blocked by his arm, whilst he lashed out with his other slamming his fist directly into Kimura's unbreakable nose, sending her staggering back.

"I know what you are, ya demented harpy! You're nothin' but a trained mutt on a tight leash, lashing out at anything you think is weaker than you. Only responding when your master yanks the chain."

"I'm nobody's slave, you bastard! I kill because I can…"

During the ensuing battle, the alarm had increased in speed exponentially, Wolverine knew this horrible place was about to be reduced to rubble, when suddenly a familiar scent caught his attention, carried by a sudden pitter-patter of rain.

"I hurt your clone because it was fun!"

Black clouds filled the once blue sky as thunder roar out across the heavens. The enemies were swiftly becoming drenched in the icy deluge, Kimura's hair sticking to her face like glue. Wolverine smirked and slowly backed away whilst Kimura let out her temper tantrum.

"And I hunt your kind, because you need to be extermina…"

"I believe we've heard quite enough from you!"

A strong womanly voice boomed out from on high, as though the sky itself had deemed to silence the violent sociopath. A single bolt of lightning rocketed down in a flash of burning fury, striking Kimura where she stood. For a moment, the world fell silent, replaced it would seem by a blank canvas of pure dazzling light.

Wolverine reeled back as the shock of the blast knocked him back and blurred his vision.

As the world slowly returned into view, Kimura body lay twitching on the ground, steam rising from her blackened form. The surrounding earth had been scarred black, filling the air with the stench of burning soil.

Wolverine's enhanced senses could make out the faintest hints of life within her chest, this monster was still alive. Although he was far from surprised, people like Kimura rarely died so easily.

A soft pat of soles touching down behind him announced his friend's arrival.

"Nice work there, Ororo. I almost broke this unbreakable she-beast."

The African weather princess strode confidently over to her companion's side, staring down at the smoldering animal who'd previously revealed at the notion of harming children.

"I do not normally strike with such prejudice, but this one seems to have a way of getting under our skin."

Wolverine rubbed her hand as Ororo placed hers on his shoulder.

"Typical sociopath, they always know just the right buttons to push."

Ororo allowed the wind to die down, giving rise to the alarm system having reached the rhythmic speed of heartbeat monitor.

"Logan, we must leave now!"

Ororo turned to leave, but paused as Wolverine refused to budge.

"Wait a minute, princess. I wanna take this one with us."

Ororo shifted her gaze between the charred body lying limp on the earth, to her long-time friend and ally. Unsure as to whether this was some sort of dark humor on his part, or perhaps her lightning had scrambled some small important part of his brain.

"Surely your joking?!"

Though Wolverine's demeanor proved he was anything but.

"Wolverine, are you mad?! You heard it straight of her own sick twisted tongue. And now you want to bring her back with us, to the place we intend to protect your daughter! Why?"

Wolverine looked at Kimura with disgust. Redeeming this one would be the granddaddy of lost causes, but several details continued to nag at him. Dr. Risman had been confident that the security had been disabled, not even the military trained guards throughout the complex had seen him coming. So how had Kimura known about the self-destruct being activated? Or that Dr. Risman was involved? And who was this Dr. Rice?

If he intended to send people after him, or the school, or especially the kid, then he'd rather have this monster locked up somewhere where he could keep an eye on her. After this, he wanted to know where this one was at all times. Far too often had he allow his enemy Sabretooth to escape and fight another day, and decisions like that had cost him and other innocents dearly.

"Ororo, if we have her locked up, then at least we'll know where she is. Better that than having to keep our guard up twenty-four seven. Besides, she might know something we don't. The classified intel that Risman couldn't get her hands on."

Ororo was, shocked, to say the least. However, neither of them had time to bicker. With a swell of discomfort at this turn of events, the weather witch put a call out to their blue elvish student.

"Kurt, we require your assistance!"

 **XXX**

Laura felt her head getting heavy as she sat on Ororo's lap, her head resting on the new tall woman's chest. Meeting so many strange new faces in such a short space of time had been unsettling, almost upsetting. Although now that things had quieted down, Laura was beginning to feel at peace with her current surroundings. Ororo smiled warmly at her, running her long slender fingers through Laura's hair, and gently humming when Laura became upset by the altitude popping in her ears. Although Laura did not understand why, the process made her insides warm and her eyes close.

Wolverine sat across from the two in a separate pair of seats. Absentmindedly he thumbed the data drive in his hand. This entire situation, from the moment his fears had been in that room, staring down a poor battered shell of a child, had spiraled into a waking nightmare.

A child.

A toddler, had been made to go through the same torture that brought him to the brink of madness.

Who knew what sort of damage had already been done? Or how long it might take to repair. If that was even an option at this point.

And now they were to play jailer to a sociopathic killer, who'd swore up and down that she'd murder any mutant in her way.

For sure, the Professor was going to have words with him upon their return.

Nightcrawler leant over the back of Wolverine's chair, nudging his shoulder as he gestured over to Ororo. Against her chest slept the child they'd saved. For all intents and purposes, his daughter.

"You know, I think she likes me."

Wolverine groaned, wishing now more than ever that he hadn't wasted his last cigar on the ride to the Facility.

"Right, once you get past the constant shedding and the stench of burning sulfur, you're a real barrel of monkeys, Kurt."

Nightcrawler shrugged this off and turned back to the sleeping toddler.

"So~ vat are you going to name her?"

Wolverine hadn't actually stopped to consider a name. Given the expedience of their escape, followed by his brawl with Kimura, and the entire base going up in a raging inferno, naming this little girl hadn't seemed of much importance.

"Laura."

The two of them turned their attention to Ororo, as she stroked the child's back.

"Her mother said, in the letter you showed us, that the little one's name is, Laura."

Wolverine wasn't thrilled to be taking any sort of parental advice from the same woman who'd allowed her baby to become a pawn in a rouge group of scientists' experiments gone mad. But for now, he had more pressing concerns, specifically in regard to their prisoner locked in the Blackbirds backroom.

"Hrmm, it'll do… For now."

He had to admit to himself though, as he watched the child sleeping, maybe it wasn't such a bad name after all.

Little Laura Kinney.

'I wish I could promise ya the world will get better from now on kiddo… But when you're a mutant, life tends to hand ya the short end of the stick. Hope your strong darlin', your gonna need it.'

 **XXX**

 **A/N: And that is it. The first chapter, done and dusted. A super young X-23 is headed to a post-Season four X-Mansion. As you can tell I'm not much of an actiony writer, forgiveness, its just not my forte.**

 **Now, why is she so young, so late into the series? What does Dr. Rice have planned for her and Wolverine? Where does everyone else fit in?**

 **Next chapter will reveal all, and I do mean all.**

 **Until next time, don't forget to read and review. It's the only way I'll learn. Chao.**


	2. Eyes Wide Open

**Eyes Wide Open**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to X-Men Evolution. Please Support the Official Release.**

 **XXX**

A gentle jostling roused Little Laura from her dreamless slumber.

As per her daily schedule, her allotted rest period was surely complete, and naturally, she assumed one of the doctors would be waiting impatiently to drag her out for another round of tests.

Imagine the little mutants surprise then, when she awoke to find herself in the arms of a tall slender lady. Laura's tiny fingers gently weaved through the lady's long silk-like hair, a fine mane of marble white strands that was soft to the touch. Held from her underneath, Laura yawned as her head returned to the lady's warm shoulder. The Wolverine's jacket had been removed, and while only a minuscule change in temperature was apparent, it was still enough to make Laura uncomfortable. As she fidgeted in the lady's arms, her movement drew the lady's attention, as well as that of the big hairy blue thing and the Wolverine, who both walked either side of her respectively. Upon closer inspection, the Wolverine had reclaimed his jacket as it once again adorned his person.

The lady smiled and ran her thumb under Laura's tired eyes, wiping away any remaining sleep.

"Well good morning, Sleepy Head. Or I should say, good afternoon."

Though dazed from her unscheduled nap, the presence of a great many people did not escape the young mutants weary gaze. All around the fancy decorated halls were groups and individuals of all manner of appearances, some clustered together in amused conversation whilst others walked alone. One constant, however, was their collective tendency to halt all discussion when one of their peers happened to notice the three adults passing by with a toddler in hand.

The surrounding structure was almost alien to the young girl. Fine polished brass and wood with all manner of portraits and décor made up this strange new setting, wherever they might be.

"Ah, the princess awakens. What fortuitous timing. And how are we this fine afternoon?"

The blue hairy thing spoke in big words that Laura didn't understand, though she sensed no malice in his tone, so she chose to respond the only way she knew how… With a blank stare. The tall lady chuckled, Beast's eloquent usage of the English language often flew over many a young mutants head.

"Hank, I don't believe this little madam knows how to talk."

"At her age? How is that possible?"

Wolverine reached into his jacket and pulled out a slip of paper.

"Kinney's letter, it's all right here. Little tyke was abused in the worst ways imaginable. If she tried and failed, they'd beat her. Hurt her over and over till she got it right, like an animal."

The Wolverine's companions seemed surprised, or maybe shocked? Laura couldn't tell. Either way, the tall lady kissed her forehead. This was a new sensation, it brought the warm feeling to her belly and cheeks, unsure how to respond, Laura allowed a gentle hum to escape her lips.

The Beast shook his head before chiming in, "How does something like this fall so far beneath our proverbial radar?"

"Try as we may Hank, the X-Men are not the authority on mutants. Mutants suffer prejudice on a global scale, despite our best efforts, we cannot be everywhere at once."

"Well they won't be hurtin' anyone else for a while, we put a major dent in their operation when their base blew sky-high." Wolverine smirked at that. Whatever remnants of that stronghold that may have survived was most likely being given the once over by S.H.I.E.L.D with a fine-tooth comb. "And believe me, I will finish the job."

"Speaking of which, Logan, how fairs our 'other guest'?"

 **XXX**

Unbeknownst to the preponderance of genetic marvels that called the Xavier Mansion 'home', down beneath the lower levels, farther still than the aptly named 'Danger Room' and the morally dubious mutant tracking apparatus 'Cerebro'. Out of sight from the adolescent scrutiny of Xavier's many students, and only accessible via an elevator behind a workbench in the faculty garage, concealed from the masses a great shame. One Xavier was all too determined to withhold from those who might not register the great necessity for such a place.

The location in question was a large open room of cold sterile white featureless walls crafted of a largely unknown substance, albeit with the occasional lighting fixture built in. And in the rooms centre, a sizeable cylindrical cell, sectioned off into quarters. Each section specifically built to hold an individual of varying strength and mutant ability.

A mutant holding area in every definition, hidden beneath a home comprised of the very people who sought freedom from such victimisation.

Xavier understood full-well the potential backlash and ramifications that might result from this particular secret, hence the reason it's existence remained on a strictly 'need-to-know' basis.

Nightcrawler, was not someone the eponymous Xavier considered, 'need-to-know', however the young German teleporter's propensity for eavesdropping on matters deemed, not of his concern, literally landed the inquisitive boy smack dab in the middle of his mentors meeting regarding the aforementioned cell. As well as one month's detention, with a week shaved off, provided he kept what he'd learned to himself.

At least for the time being.

 **XXX**

The world returned to Kimura, as it so often did since reaching drinking age almost a decade prior, in a haze of distorted colors accompanied by a throbbing headache and a sense of impending vomit.

Kimura twitched and shuddered as the after shock of, as she recalled, being struck by lightning reverberated throughout her person. Military-grade explosives were a mere triviality in the face of her 'glorious' unbreakable skin; Soaking wet and struck by lightning, however? Apparently, such an occurrence had never really been factored in to The Facilities plans whilst she had been receiving treatments to induce said abilities.

As the feeling gradually returned to her limbs, much in the same vain as an average joe might recover from an all-over case of pins and needles, it gave Kimura at least some semblance of satisfaction that that same lack of foresight, however unlikely, is most definitely what led to said scientists' deaths at the claws of an enraged Wolverine.

Doctor Rice would be wise to consider her for a position on the recruitment board, as a means of weaning out such incompetency in all future Facility recruits. Once she'd killed The Wolverine and dragged Kinney's Little Bitch kicking and screaming back to Rice, of course.

Naturally she was very much looking forward to the latter.

She attempted, unsuccessfully, to rise. But the burning sensation in her muscles proved too great a demon to vanquish; best she could do was roll onto her back and try not to look feeble. To say her surroundings infuriated her would be an understatement of astronomical proportions.

A pure white cell, one wall completely transparent like some sort of hybrid between an autopsy lab and a pen at the zoo. A cot in one far corner with no blankets, and a toilet and shower basin in the other without a curtain.

This was the Little Bitch's lot in life, not Kimura's. She deserved better, and anyone who thought otherwise wouldn't live long enough to voice such undeniably stupid opinions.

The very notion that Kimura, egocentric as she was, would or could for that matter, be captured, was ludicrous in every sense of the word. She was a fighter, a warrior, and a survivor. A dispenser of pain in a world of weak willed, milquetoast snowflakes.

Although, a thought struck her, was this the doing of Doctor Rice? That made her heart skip a beat. When Doctor Rice learned of her failure to recapture the girl, the "good" doctor would have her head, if such a thing were possible Doctor Rice would surely find a way.

Kimura feared no man.

But Zander Rice was no ordinary man.

And any vile, depraved punishment she might concoct in her twisted mind, would be mere peanuts compared to what Zander would have in store.

"Guten Tag, deine Heiligkeit. Nightcrawler, zu Ihren Diensten."

Fortunately, or perhaps 'unfortunately' depending on one's perspective, the individual staring her down from beyond the transparent wall, was not in fact, Doctor Rice. But rather, the bright blue German elf-looking X-Person who'd snatched 'her property' back at the now 'former' Facility base. The grinning simpleton leaning against her cell couldn't have been more than a teenager, a fact compounded on by his unkempt hair and the shit-eating grin on his face.

"Nightcrawler? What the hell are you supposed to be?! A Keebler elf?"

Kimura's voice was hoarse and in desperate need of some water. The water from the shower faucet had better be drinkable, for everyone's sake.

"Nein, I make Rice Krispies. Snap und Crackle are off duty today."

Kimura was not amused.

"Let. Me. Out!"

Nightcrawler scratched his chin, humming to himself in mock deliberation.

"Hmm, tut mir leid, kann ich nicht."

"What do you mean you can't?!"

"Can't… Won't… es ist all about semantics."

Aggravated as ever, Kimura forced her arms to comply in hoisting herself into a sitting position. She would not be openly mocked by a 'filthy' mutant whilst on her back.

"Do you have… any idea, what I'm gonna do to you when I get out of here?!"

Nightcrawler just shrugged, whatever threat this cruel woman posed was marred, at least in his eyes, by the reinforced structure in which she dwelt. A fact that Kimura assured herself would bite this mutant right on his backside. When the time was right of course.

"Tickle fight? Barbecue? Snakes und Ladders? That one's mein favorite."

"Ich werde auf deinen Bauch drücken, bis dein Bauch nacktes Fleisch unter meiner Ferse ist!"

The fact that Kimura not only understood but could speak German was alarming to say the least. Nightcrawler suppressed his gag reflex as he noted the threat from his native tongue. Roughly translated, it meant. _"I'm going to press down on your stomach, till your intestines are pulp beneath my heel!"_

"You… are not a nice lady."

Nightcrawler was so matter of fact in his statement that Kimura had to laugh. This wasn't a prison, it barely qualified as a cell. These weren't trained soldiers or mercenaries, this was a teenager, and an inexperienced one at that. Her jailers couldn't hold her for long, she realised that now. Kimura smirked and licked her lips, the bewildered expression on the elf's face only added to her reclaimed jovial outlook of current events.

"Understatement of the fucking century… You realise you and your filthy mutant friends are all gonna die kid, you know that right?!" Kimura enjoyed the sight of watching Nightcrawler squirm, any pain she felt from forcing herself to sit up was worth it to see this. Nightcrawler shrugged indignantly.

"Big talk from such a petty lady. Me, Ich habe an entire mansion full of backup!"

Of course, Kimura expected there'd be more mutants, naturally the X-Men kept familiar company and in great numbers. However, that wasn't what caught her attention.

"Oh, we know the X-Men hide in Xavier's mansion. Just like we know about that dingy flophouse the Brotherhood shacked up in. The Facility has eyes everywhere, Mutant! Today's little setback will barely slow us down."

"You don't frighten us!"

What Kimura said next floored the young mutant.

…

"… Amanda Sefton."

…

Nightcrawler stood frozen, mouth agape, his brain struggling like a jammed printer to register the words he'd heard so clearly. On quaking knees, he spoke the first thing that entered his disturbed consciousness.

"Oh Scheiße!" Nightcrawler disappeared in a blast of blue smoke. Kimura smirked and collapsed on her back, throwing her arms behind her head in self satisfaction. She wouldn't be here long.

"Oh, and Wolverine… since I know you're listening. Zander Rice is gonna rain hell down on this place. You and the Little Bitch would've been enough, but now, after this insult, the Facility will drag every last mutant here back to his surgical table."

In actuality it was a bluff of tremendous proportions, but as far as Kimura was concerned, she was indispensable. The good doctor would come for her, and if for whatever reason, he took no interest in the overarching mutant populous of this domicile, they would all suffer her unbridled fury the moment her cell walls were torn asunder… it was only a matter of time.

 **XXX**

Professor Charles Xavier was by and large regarded throughout both the academic community, and the worlds innumerable mutant populous, as a magnanimous individual of tremendous compassion and baring a prophetic vision of man and mutant-kind's inherent potential for unity and peaceful coexistence.

So true was he to these beliefs, that not once had his faith in the intrinsic goodness of all peoples ever waivered. Deep down, he believed in the fundamental 'truths', that no man is truly born with hate in their heart. That a kind heart and compassion in the face of adversity would ring true, louder than any cries of hatred.

Instances, such as the one he faces at present, truly tested his conviction.

The letter Logan had received under dubious circumstances in of itself was cause for concern. Few knew of Logan as anything other than Weapon-X or The Wolverine, and fewer still, knew his whereabouts as a resident of Xavier. But it was what the letter entailed that troubled he and his staff to such a degree.

The unlawful, unethical and downright inhumane experimentation of a mutant child.

Charles had long thought he had experienced the true zenith of mankind's cruelty and proclivity for violence, this revelation however, had only further lowered the proverbial bar for what anti-mutant hatred was truly capable of. His global search via Cerebro confirmed his fears. A child, so young she could almost be considered a baby, tortured and bred like an animal… to kill!

How could such malevolence be allowed to fester and grow unbeknownst to the world at large?

It must have taken Logan a great deal of courage and conviction to approach Charles with this knowledge, given Logan's preference for facing his troubles alone. Such a display of trust would not go unrewarded, Charles would make sure of that, even if it meant importing a sizeable haul of a particular German beer that Logan was rather fond of.

Whilst initially irate at the suggestion of involving others in his personal affairs, Logan did eventually concede that the heads of the Xavier mansion staff needed to be informed.

Ororo 'Storm' Munroe and Henry 'Beast' McCoy. Both skilled intellects, met this disturbing news with varying degrees of confusion, outrage, and following Logan's decision that he would seek out someone involved with this "Facility" … determination. If a mutant child, really any child for that matter was in danger, they had to act.

Unfortunately, their swift departure had garnered more than a few wondering eyes, including the every curious Nightcrawler, who'd opted to teleport aboard the Blackbird shortly before take-off.

As such, when the time came to deliberate over the day's events after the fact, the blue elf would have to be factored in to their discussion… though not in the way the four adults had expected.

 **XXX**

The tension within Xavier's Office had grown stagnant and sickly, all four individuals concerned had watched the live feed from Kimura's cell, though neither could quite put their feelings into words… besides Logan.

"Psychotic Harpy! I need a drink."

Ororo shook her head, disapproving of Logan's… 'less becoming' activities. Especially around one so young. Holding the small child slightly tighter than before, she took a seat next to the Professor's desk.

Laura, for the most part, had remained silent for the duration of their meeting. Fidgeting fearfully whenever Kimura's voice sounded through the desktop speakers. Everything around was alien to her, not at all like the sterile surroundings she had long become accustom to. For this all to be some sort of test from Doctor Rice, the terrifying man was taking far longer than Laura had expected, to the point where she started to wonder if he truly was gone. It was an utterly confusing, yet appealing prospect she could not fully grasp. As such, she opted instead to simply nuzzle into the tall lady's warm embrace and sleep until something bad inevitably happened. Such was her lot in life.

Hank leant against the office windows, gazing out at the various mutant inhabitants that called this place home. Whilst most every student living within the mansion had been trained in the use of their innate abilities, as well as several basic forms of self-defence, the knowledge that these, for all intents and purposes, children, were solely their responsibility; it was a wonder his thick blue coat had not yet turned retirement-grey.

"Whilst I must insist against such juvenile name-calling, I do share your sentiments, Logan. I believe a drink is precisely what the proverbial doctor prescribes."

"Glad you're finally comin' around, Hank."

Though his words were jovial in nature, Logan's dower tone highlighted the all too present issue that needed to be addressed.

The Professor switched off his monitor and turned to face his staff.

His X-Men.

"My friends, we are faced with an unprecedented dilemma. If this, Kimura's, words are to be believed, then we face a threat the likes of which could exceed that of Bolivar Trask's Sentinel Program."

Logan snorted, and idly thumped his fist against the oak panelled wall he'd propped himself against.

"Above and beyond some giant robot, Professor. You didn't see what I saw in that place, that 'Facility'. So many soulless people, all of 'em working to turn a… a baby girl… into another me!"

The Professor sighed and shook his solemn head, reaching over stroking the tiny mutant's small hand. Such cruelty, from so many, to one so young. 'Perhaps', he pondered, 'Magneto had the right idea'. But such thoughts could be left aside for the time being.

"I know you're angry, Logan. Believe me, I understand. But bringing these people, although I hesitate to call them 'people', to justice will have to be postponed. For now, as it stands, this shadow operation, no doubt building from the ashes for the Weapon-X Project, have access to information regarding all our known whereabouts… as well as those affiliated with us outside the manors premises."

A collective chill filled the air. Each one of them knew people beyond Xavier's walls, be they friends, colleagues, business associates, and worst of all, families.

The enraged snarl of Hank as a slammed his fist into the wall sucked all involved from their collective stupor. Even Little Laura was stirred awake by the unfamiliar bestial sound.

"Humanities collective animosity towards us continues to test my extraordinarily high patience… If you will all please excuse me, I think perhaps I shall retire to my quarters for the evening. Maybe take a crack at decrypting Logan's flash drive. Good day."

Hank did not wait for a reply as he stormed out of the room, slamming the double doors on his way out, leaving behind a noticeable crack from where his fist had met the wall.

Logan simply nodded, he understood his friend's anger all too well, though it could in no way rival his own.

Ororo on the other hand, noticing Laura's frantic head movement, no doubt searching for some form of incoming hostility, was quick to comfort the child as best she could. Cradling her close and kissing her forehead.

"There there, little one. Its alright, you're safe now."

The tall lady's words had a profound almost hypnotic effect on the young mutant, as her rapid breath and shaking lessened, she gradually returned to her warm place on the lady's lap. Although her attention become solely focused on the new figure next to her, a man with no hair and what appeared to be a chair with big wheels, something she'd never seen before.

"Well now, its nicely to formally meet you, Miss Laura."

Professor Xavier gently reached out and shook the little girl's hand with his thumb and finger. Laura looked at her hand then back at the bald stranger, if this was an experiment then it was a new and strange one indeed.

While Logan hated to break up what might be one of the few showings of genuine kindness this young child had likely ever seen, something was playing on his mind.

"Professor, you heard what that… 'Witch' told Kurt. Someone's gotta talk to him. Before he does something reckless."

"I appreciate your tact in front of the child, Logan. Unfortunately, Kurt fled the premises ten minutes ago."

Ororo glanced at the Professor, as though he'd just said something completely incredulous. Logan snarled and moved toward the door.

"And you just let him go?! With those 'Facility' psychos watching us?!"

Ororo was equally concerned.

"Professor, we must send someone to retrieve him immediately, he could be in danger."

Although tensions had arisen drastically the Professor maintained his collected demeanour.

"Please, calm yourselves. The Facility has suffered a sizable loss today, no doubt S.H.I.E.L.D will have taken notice. At least for the moment, I believe we are safe."

The Professor's renowned poker face, left Ororo somewhat hesitant yet content for the time being. Logan however remained unconvinced.

"However, Logan. Swift actions will have to be taken, and soon. Once Hank has finished decrypting the information retrieved by your inside source, we will make plans on how best to proceed. As for the child, you know she is more than welcome to remain here in our care… though, should you have another place for her to stay in mind, you are of course free to take her."

Logan had not anticipated that. Although, regarding his, for all intents and purposes, daughter, he'd had precious little time to decide just what he wanted to do with her. She was his kin, there wasn't a shadow of a doubt in his mind about that. Her scent, her eyes, her everything called to him, like an alpha wolf to his cub. Yet… despite everything, he was far from what most anyone would consider 'father-material'.

Her only living family besides him was the 'Kinney' woman, but she'd gone off the radar for her own protection. Even then, Logan would never allow her of all people to lay a hand on the child ever again. She had knowingly and willingly brought a child into this life, knowing full well what would happen. As far as he was concerned, Kinney had forfeited the right to call herself a parent the moment she allowed those mad scientists access to his daughter.

"… There's… nowhere else she can go, Professor. Those psychos are gonna keep coming after her, better she's around folks that can protect her and show her some kindness. She deserves it."

"As much as we can give." Ororo chimed in, stroking Laura's hair.

Laura hummed a relaxed sigh, it was a sensation that was entirely new to her, and yet all too pleasant. For the first time in her life, she was revelling in this strange new form of attention. No shocks, no needles, no Kimura or Doctor Rice. Just being held, and the lady's lips gently pressed against her head, whatever that was called. It felt… warm.

The Professor smiled and nodded to his friends.

"Then stay here she shall. We will of course have to purchase several safety items; a mansion is hardly a place for a toddler to wonder. Not to mention clothing, food, playthings…"

"I am certain my sister Vivian would be more than happy to donate some of Evan's baby toys."

"Excellent, well then… that unfortunately leaves, one last unpleasant matter to attend to."

It was the unfortunate elephant in the room, but it needed to be addressed.

"For her own safety, I will need to examine her… shall we say, psychological wellbeing."

Logan murmured under his breath, unsure of how to proceed. His daughter had been examined and analysed long enough, but he of all people knew the damages their tormentor's mistreatment would cause both mentally and physically. Ororo on the other hand did not agree.

"Professor, the poor dear's been through allot of changes today already."

"I know Ororo, I do. However, if there are any latent psychological issues present, then it is of the utmost urgency that she receives treatment as soon as possible. Or there's no tell how they might affect her mental health in later life."

Sensing that neither Logan nor Ororo were too eager to take the child beyond the safety of the mansion, Professor had to clarify…

"I'll need to perform a survey of her memories across the mental plane. Completely painless, she wouldn't even be aware it was happening."

The subject of mindreading was a sensitive subject where Logan was concerned. Too many had sought to alter or outright erase his memories in the past for their own ends; to Logan, a person's mind was not something to be trifled with, hence why he held both The Professor and his protégé Jean Grey in such high regard. Both could willingly and effortlessly manipulate the thoughts, opinions and memories of those around them, yet they would not, and he really admired that. Though he would never voice these thoughts aloud.

"Logan, as her closest relative I will need your approval. I would never conduct this sort of examination without your consent. If you don't accept, I will understand."

Logan did not like being put in this position. Leading a group of inexperienced mutants was somehow a far simpler task than this. This was a child, specifically his child, his responsibility. To think that every choice he made, big or small, would in someway influence this young life was almost overwhelming.

As he gazed down at his… his little girl, she turned her head and stared up at him with her beautiful bright green eyes… to think a small part of him brought into the world could possess such innocence and wonder. And people, despicable hateful people had sought to corrupt this innocence, was an act of pure evil.

Absentmindedly, Logan knelt beside Ororo's chair and allowed Laura to grasp his fingers with her tiny hand. The poor girl, he knew she'd suffered… but to what degree, the letter had only explained so much, and Dr. Risman had awkwardly danced around the details.

As much as he hated to betray his principles, Logan couldn't let this go. His child deserved to grow up without the pain he'd long endured.

He had to know what those people had done.

"Alright Chuck, ya got my permission… on one condition."

The Professor breathed a sigh of relief, while he would of course have honored his friend's wishes, he truly felt this was the most expedient method to assess the child's condition.

"Of course, Logan. What do you need?"

"When you check her memories, I'm going too!"

 **XXX**


End file.
